


Without Answers

by celluloid



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brian Banner's A+ Parenting, Bruce Banner Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Odin's A+ Parenting, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Thor (Marvel) Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 10:39:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12792816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celluloid/pseuds/celluloid
Summary: Bruce lost two years of his life and his sense of agency. Thor lost his entire past and present. At least, stuck floating through space, they have time to grieve.





	Without Answers

**Author's Note:**

> How late am I to the "there was a lot of angst in the movie but no real place for it in the runtime so I'm going to solve that with fic" party? Well here I am anyway.
> 
> As luck would so have it, the last time I actually finished Avengers fic, it was Bruce and Thor centric. I kind of got the appeal of them as a duo then but wasn't as invested in it. But I sure am now!! I wanna do so much more with these two.

Bruce is alone when he wakes up.

His breath hitches as he feels consciousness return to him, slowly replaced with the keen awareness that he has no idea where he is. He’s on something that could maybe be considered a bed, but it’s a rather hard surface. Above him his eyes focus on a cold metal ceiling; the walls around him match.

Not sensing anybody near, he gingerly sits upright, minding his sore muscles as the scratchy blanket pools around his legs. Looking around, he supposes he is in a prison.

One without guards. So, maybe not.

Bruce gathers the blanket - it’s that or walk around naked, which he usually prefers to avoid - and clutches it at his waist as he rises. Then, he makes his way to the door.

It opens with ease. So, not a pris—

It opens to a great hallway with large windows lining the outer walls, showing nothing but black skies and bright, but very distant, stars passing by, the coloured glow of nebulas breathing a bit of life into the cold, vast emptiness before him.

Bruce’s heart skips a beat. He’d always been interested in science, yes. Exploration? Not quite as much. Becoming an astronaut? Hell, he knew he’d never have the mental capacities for the hardships space would bestow on a human.

Then he recalls Thor’s words - he’s been on two planets, now - and swallows. He can’t tear his eyes from the void before him.

“Banner!” Thor’s voice calls. Bruce turns in the direction it comes from to see him rushing towards him. “You have awakened!”

“Thor,” Bruce calls back. “It’s good to— what happened to your eye?”

Thor stops, transfers whatever it is he’s carrying to one arm as he reaches up to touch the eyepatch with his other hand. “It is gone, lost in battle. My sister took it from me.”

“Are you okay?” Bruce asks, feeling like an idiot the instant the words leave his lips.

Thor confirms the feeling. “How about I rip your eye from your skull and see how you feel?” he snaps. After a beat, he hangs his head. “I apologize. It has been… a long few days.”

“No, yeah, I figure,” Bruce says. He has a lot of questions, starting with, “Uh, hey, what have you got there?” he asks, gesturing to the bundle tucked under Thor’s arm.

Thor brightens. “Ah, yes!” he says, throwing the bundle into Bruce’s chest. He only just barely succeeds in catching it with one hand, the other still focused on not letting the blanket fall. “Clothing! Heimdall saw you awaken, so I thought you could use these.”

“… Right,” Bruce says.

“We have nothing Midgardian on this ship,” Thor continues, “but I hope these will suffice. Better than you running around naked, at least.” At that, he gets a faraway look in his eye and briefly shudders, and Bruce is pretty sure he doesn’t want to know what that’s about.

* * *

The simple tunic and pants Thor provides him with more than suffice; at the very least, he can move about in comfort (it’s key that the pants are an appropriate fit. He remembers Tony’s clothing now. He’s not too sorry it’s ruined). And it’s good to not have to worry about that, so that now, he can worry about everything else.

“So now you’ve been on three planets!” Thor beams at him, having caught him up with everything he’s missed since his latest time as the Hulk. “One of the last to ever set foot on Asgard, at that! And now we are flying through space. How many humans can say they’ve done all that?”

“None?” Bruce ventures a guess, not really wanting to think about it too much. Can the Hulk survive the empty void that is space? He wouldn’t put it past him. “So you said it’s been just a few days?”

“Yes,” Thor confirms. “Truthfully, it is good you are back. There isn’t much for us to do at the moment and Hulk was getting a little restless. And, well, with the last of Asgard on this ship, we really didn’t need that.”

Bruce is still trying to wrap his head around the whole thing wherein Thor’s people are apparently endangered now. That he apparently tried to take on an apocalyptic demon just before the planet it was destroying completely exploded. It’s a lot.

“A lot” would sum up all of the experiences he can clearly remember, really. There was Sokovia, and then there was learning two years after the fact that they all completely broke Sokovia and also he was a famous gladiator and they had to fly through the Devil’s Anus and was that all in one day? He needs to lie down, or cry, or something.

“Banner, are you alright?” Thor asks.

Cry it is, apparently.

Bruce sniffs, running the back of his arm across his eyes. “Yeah. Maybe. Actually, probably not?” He looks up into Thor’s concerned… eye. “This is just a lot all at once, you know?”

“Yes,” Thor says, in the quietest voice Bruce has ever heard him speak.

They sit there, staring silently across at one another in the room Bruce woke up in. He sits upon the bed, fists balling up in that blanket; Thor sits on a nearby chair, a desk to its side, before it a mirror that he cannot see into when looking at Bruce because it is on his right side.

Bruce speaks first.

“Two years,” he says.

“What?”

“I’m just— I’m just trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was gone for two years. That someone else had control of my body for that amount of time. That’s two birthdays that I missed. Two sets of holidays. Everything that happened back on Earth, I know nothing about. Whatever Tony’s been up to? Nothing. Even Tony’s birthdays, or Steve’s, or…

“And I don’t even know what was done with my body over that time. I don’t know who I hurt, or killed, or how many. It wasn’t just that I ceased to exist for two years, it was that someone much more dangerous took over. If I had been in a coma, that would have been one thing. Or dead. But… I just…” Bruce bows his head, gripping at his hair. “I shouldn’t even exist. It’s no good for anyone.”

“I disagree,” Thor says. “You are a mighty warrior, and you are noble, no matter your form. And I could not have saved Asgard without your help.”

“Didn’t the planet blow up?”

“Asgard is a people, not a place,” Thor says, with the air of someone who has been saying it all too often. “And everyone on this ship - you helped save them all. As did the Hulk.”

Bruce shakes his head. “I know the Hulk can do good, and mean well, but he just stole two years of my life from me, and I don’t know how many more he’ll take. I remember thinking, ‘This is it,’ as I jumped down to help. That was the end of Bruce Banner. I can’t keep living like this, afraid of oblivion with each passing moment.”

“But is that not how mortals live?” Thor inquires. “Even I have become increasingly aware of death in these times.”

“I’m not sure Hulk is mortal,” Bruce says. “And with that, I’m not sure I am, either. I could just be trapped in an empty void for eternity while he takes full control of me. And then I’m nothing.”

Thor clasps his hands in front of him, silent. Then he reaches for Bruce’s. “I am not sure what to say,” he says. “Just that, I do not believe that will happen.”

“Thanks,” Bruce mumbles, staring at his dwarfed hands. It’s an empty platitude and they both know it. “I wouldn’t expect you to know what to say. I wouldn’t expect anyone.”

“I think back on my past two years,” Thor says, “and I cannot imagine having no knowledge of them. Truly, I am sorry.”

“Yeah,” Bruce says, still focusing on their hands. “If I go to sleep, will I even wake back up? Or will it just be him? You don’t have to answer that.”

Thor doesn’t. When Bruce eventually looks up, he sees Thor’s gaze behind him, staring at the blank wall. Then, wordlessly, gently, he pulls back, and takes his leave.

Bruce’s eyes flick over the empty room before he decides to lie back down, emotionally exhausted, and wondering if it would even be a bad thing if he were to just slip into oblivion, never to return to consciousness again, as he does.

* * *

“I inquired with Loki,” Thor says the next time he sees him.

Bruce is staring out the windows again, feeling increasingly alone. He’s not Asgardian, he’s kind of afraid to approach Korg or any of his fellow former gladiators (not that they were exactly peers, hence the fear), the thing with Valkyrie is still very odd - someone else was living his life - and Thor is the only one he can probably talk to, but Thor also always seems to be very busy.

So Bruce is feeling increasingly alone, not that that’s new. So he starts when Thor speaks to him.

“Loki?” Bruce almost snaps, partly out of shock and partly out of fear.

“To see if there is a solution to your problem,” Thor says, brushing over Bruce’s tone. “He is the best sorcerer we have left to us.”

“I don’t want him casting any spells on me,” Bruce spits.

Thor smiles at him, clapping him on the back and nearly bowling Bruce over in the process. “No need to worry, Banner, he is still much more afraid of you than he’s willing to let on,” he says. Then his smile falls. “However, he says he couldn’t be of any help, anyway. A lot of knowledge was lost in Asgard’s destruction, and Loki did not carry it all with him. Not even Heimdall did.”

Bruce worries at his lip, acutely aware that while he is totally justified in feeling sorry for himself, his are far from the only problems on the ship. “I’m sorry you lost your home,” he says.

Thor’s expression darkens. “Do not be,” he says. “It had to go.”

And with that, he strides away, pace fast but clearly without purpose.

* * *

Bruce and Loki pass in the halls, once. Loki smirks at him. Bruce emits a soft growl as he stomps one foot in Loki’s direction, and while the trickster holds his ground, the smirk fades just enough to give Bruce some satisfaction.

He’s never going to get those two years back, and he’s losing even more time at this rate considering how he’s trapped on this ship for god knows how long, but at least he has some power here.

And all he really has to do is work on coming to terms with it. And every time he wakes up, things feel a little less hopeless than they did the day before.

Maybe there’s even some way for him and the Hulk to work together, exist together in a better way than they did on Sakaar. Now that Bruce is acutely aware he may no longer have the dominant mind in this relationship, he figures it’s best to find a truce, however that may work.

He’s got all of the time in the world to do it, now.

* * *

Bruce feels like an intruder amongst the Asgardians, but Korg is surprisingly cool, and he thinks Miek likes him. He moves from his private quarters to be with the former gladiators, relief flooding through him when he’s invited to light sparring sessions to pass the time - as Bruce, not as Hulk.

Couldn’t hurt for Bruce to learn a bit of fighting on his own, after all. Maybe Hulk could even improve from it, somehow. Bruce wonders if he’s back there, or if he’s locked in a car trunk, too.

He doesn’t see much of Thor these days.

* * *

Sometimes, Bruce hears of Thor.

He hears of how he mingles amongst his people, smile strained as he greets and breaks bread with them. He hears of how he meets with Loki and this mysterious Heimdall he’s still never met for hours on end. He hears of how Thor paces the ship aimlessly. He hears of how there are bags under his eye, of how curses fall from his lips much more freely than before, of how there are barely restrained fits.

Then he sees the lightning dance across his knuckles, and Bruce’s stomach drops. The hall is empty, as is the makeshift throne, as Thor stands before the mass viewport. There’s shitty lighting overhead, the limited lighting space can provide, and the dangerous lightning jumping across Thor’s fists.

“Hey,” Bruce says, approaching Thor. He just barely avoids flinching when Thor’s bright gaze turns to him. “Do you want to talk?”

Thor’s lip curls into something of a snarl before turning back to stare out the window. “I do not have the time to air minor quibbles.”

“But you have the time to stand here brooding,” Bruce mutters under his breath. Then, louder, “Are you sure? Because you look like you need it.”

“What I need,” Thor snaps, “is for this ship to move faster. Is to have safe passage to Midgard. For my people to have the strength to get through this.”

“What about your strength?”

“Do you doubt my strength?”

“No,” Bruce says, holding up his hands in surrender. “Of course not. But it may help, to talk.”

Thor sighs, the air audibly rushing from his body. “I have heard the stories from most of my people. Even the thankful are still hurting. They have lost everything, and it was my call to destroy their homes. Their possessions. Everything they have ever had, the only world they have ever known, and I’m responsible for it. It’s my burden, to carry that for them.”

Bruce finds himself shaking his head vigorously. “But you’ve lost, too. Have you even looked after yourself?”

“My people need me—“

“—And you can’t be there for them if you don’t think of yourself,” Bruce interrupts. “I heard about the whole lightning thing.” He nods at Thor’s hands; Thor looks down at them, apparently only just becoming aware of the physical manifestation of his present rage, a dead giveaway. “If it’s showing up here, that can’t be good.”

Thor worries at his lip. “Truthfully, I am exhausted,” he confesses.

“You listened to me when I woke up,” Bruce says. “I’m still freaked out, but it helped. Let me return the favour.”

Thor turns to look at him. Bruce meets his gaze, but shuffles under it, suddenly aware of just how much older the God of Thunder is than him. Bruce feels like he’s lived too many lifetimes; Thor actually has. That he fights alongside the likes of him and the rest of the Avengers feels like something of a miracle. He isn’t even human.

Then again, if Earth is going to be his home now…

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” Thor finally says. It’s the start of a relent.

“The beginning is usually a good place,” Bruce replies.

* * *

They move away from the bridge to Thor’s private quarters, where the desk is covered in documents and the drinks are sparse, but oh so very present.

Thor unceremoniously flops over onto the bed in the room. Bruce looks around awkwardly before finding a chair to settle on.

“So,” he starts. “You lost your planet. I haven’t seen mine in two years, and I’m not accustomed to travelling to other worlds. It’s all messed up, right?”

“But we are returning to your home,” Thor points out.

“And it’ll be yours now, too,” Bruce says. “Sure, it won’t be as shiny, but you’ve been there before. It’s nice, right?”

Thor stays silent long enough for Bruce to think he’s gone to sleep. “Thor?”

“It’s probably better,” Thor says, quietly.

“What?”

“My father—“ Thor starts, cuts himself off. “No. I am not ready for that.”

Bruce cocks his head to the side. “What are you ready for?”

Thor laughs, deep and humourless. “Banner, so much has changed. Beyond the loss of my home. Nothing will ever be like it once was. I can no longer—“ he stops himself, for a moment. “Before all of this, I was scouring the universe for infinity stones. Couldn’t find any, but continued to hop from planet to planet, world to world, and now… I suppose I’m doing it one last time.”

“Why is this the last time?”

Thor sits up at that, meets Bruce’s gaze. “Because before, I could shirk my responsibilities as Prince of Asgard. Now Odin is dead, Loki’s previous cover blown, and I am King. I have to stay with my people.”

And then, in a much smaller voice: “And because my friends are all dead.”

That gets Bruce’s attention. Thor’s body language has completely changed, his head bowed, knees coming to his chest, arms pulled in on himself. Bruce would never describe Thor as small, but he’s almost getting there.

So he gets up and joins Thor on the bed, sitting beside him. He stops short of reaching out to pat him on the back, or hug him, or something, but he’s a lot closer now. “But you saved so many—“

“And I was too late for my fellow warriors,” Thor speaks into his chest. “Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun. We fought many battles together, they were my best friends, and I know not what became of that - just that my sister killed them.

“Did they receive a proper burial, even though they defied her? Were their corpses among those I brutalized with my lightning? I was told they were the first to meet their ends at Hela’s hands, that they were no match. I hadn’t seen them in so long— I just always assumed they’d be right there, that we would all live to fight and drink together forever… I know not what even became of Sif, if even she knows Asgard is gone, if she is around to know…”

When Bruce looks over, he can see the gleam from Thor’s eyepatch, but not the rest of his face. The way he takes in a shaky breath, though, if Thor isn’t crying now, he’s on the verge of it.

“I am fortunate,” Thor says, head still down. “I have a great many friends, across two worlds. My people here; the Avengers, on your planet. But they were my oldest and dearest. And they are gone. And I didn’t even know, until after Asgard was destroyed. I have nothing but memories left of them.”

Bruce stays silent. He also makes the decision to reach over, to pull Thor into a half-hug with one arm. Readjusts quickly when Thor actually starts to lean into him.

“Have you ever lost a close friend like that, Banner?” Thor asks.

Bruce stares ahead. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend that close in my life,” he says. “My best friend is probably Tony.” _And maybe you,_ he mentally adds, _considering all this time we’ll have spent together on this ship._

Thor pulls his head up, slightly, enough that Bruce can see the small grin fighting to get out. “I do not think they would have gotten along well with Stark. Or vice versa,” he says.

“What about me?” Bruce asks.

Thor clicks his tongue, contemplating. “They would have loved the Hulk,” he says. “I’m sure you would have worked your way up in their standings, as well.”

Bruce feels he should maybe be insulted, but there’s something just vulnerable and sincere enough about this that he’s anything but. “Thanks,” he says.

They sit there like that for a while, Bruce awkwardly half-hugging Thor, Thor partially leaning on Bruce. His head is higher up now; if Bruce leans forward, he can see the drying tear tracks on Thor’s cheek. He wonders how long it’s been since Thor last cried.

“I already told you about Mjolnir,” Thor says, suddenly.

Bruce isn’t sure if he actually has, but he does know he hasn’t seen the telltale hammer around since he saw Thor, nor even heard the sound of its coming. He hasn’t seen Thor outstretch his hand to call it to him once.

So Bruce just nods.

“I feel naked without her,” Thor continues at Bruce’s prompting. “Or as though I have lost a limb.”

“Do you remember,” Bruce says, “the last time you were on Earth, at Tony’s, we all tried lifting it? And none of us could?”

Thor gives a soft chuckle. “It was a good game,” he says. “Only the Vision could manage.” A pause. “Though Rogers came close.”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh yes,” Thor says. “I found it concerning at the time, but in hindsight, that was foolish. The Captain is a good man. It will be good to see him again.”

“Yeah,” Bruce agrees, feeling a sudden cold wave wash over him. Running into Thor was great, if not for the obvious benefit of it leading to him returning to himself and getting off of that planet. Then there’s the other helpful note that Thor is, generally, easier going. He sees the Hulk as a mighty warrior, less so the product of a mentally unstable man with severe anger issues. He’s someone he can at least take, even if barehanded.

But seeing the others… he fears judgment. He ran away on them. He has, multiple times. But being on a different planet is a whole other hiding place than a remote village.

And he’s dangerous. He’s a threat to them. To the Earth. And as eager as he is to get back home, he’s not nearly so eager as to face that again. Certainly not after two years of unexplained absence.

Bruce falls back on the bed.

“I wonder what they’ve been up to all this time,” he says.

Thor falls back with him, the movement bouncing Bruce up a little. “From what I have heard and seen through my travels, there have been no more grave threats. So that is most fortunate.”

“Yeah,” Bruce says.

“You are troubled,” Thor says, not even giving the air time to settle into an awkward silence over them.

Bruce’s eyes widen in surprise, for just a second. “This isn’t supposed to be about me,” he nearly squawks.

“And yet you are the one who insisted on talking,” Thor replies. “And you may be right, about its helpfulness. So speak.”

Bruce groans, bringing a hand up to his head to ward off what he feels may be an oncoming headache. “It’s just the usual stuff with me,” he says. “You know, how I lost two years of my life on an alien planet while someone else inside of me stripped me of all agency and took over.”

He hears Thor shift in response but still stay stretched out across his back, almost mirroring Bruce’s position. “Fair enough,” Thor says. “I do not know how long that takes to overcome.”

“Going back home will probably help with that. As much as I’m not sure if I want to,” Bruce confesses.

“Oh?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Bruce says quickly, placating his own words. “I want to be home. There’s nowhere I want to be more than Earth, where things at least make sense, for the most part. But at least on Sakaar I didn’t have to worry about the Hulk, or I wouldn’t have, if I’d known what was going on. Earth is a constant concern because there, I just destroyed stuff. I have to be so careful, and it’s tiring.”

Thor hums. “While not your situation,” he says, “I, too, have felt the call of madness in battle.” Bruce thinks back to Thor’s one, impossibly bright eye; he wonders if the Hulk has ever struck such fear in anyone with a mere look. “I truly wish neither of us brings any harm to Midgard.”

Then, after a beat, “Besides, I actually did destroy my home world, and I suspect you will not be able to top me.”

Bruce cracks a smile at that before he can help it. He glances over at Thor, sees a similar, wry expression across his face. Feels less guilty about his own immediate reaction. “Fair point. I don’t think I’m that good.”

“Then it is settled,” Thor says, sitting up. He offers his hand to pull Bruce up, as well. “We shall ward off our demons and not destroy your world.”

“Our world,” Bruce says, taking it. Thor’s smile softens at that. Bruce stands upright, recognizing his cue to leave. “Are you going to be alright?” he asks.

“I’ll be better,” Thor promises. “But for now, I have friends to mourn.” He turns his gaze downward, stares at his hands, fingers twisting over themselves. “It is long overdue.”

* * *

Something is still off with Thor.

Granted, Bruce really doesn’t know him all that well. They’ve spent some time together, but not much of it has been quality. More on the strategizing or fighting end of things. The sheer amount of downtime they have stuck on this ship, flying through space, is unnerving.

He doesn’t know how well Thor knows the other Asgardians - there are so few of them now, but that’s still a lot of people to know - but he does know that, absolute best case scenario, he’s second fiddle to Loki.

Which unnerves him. Because Loki unnerves him in general. That he’s making the trip with them back to Earth - that none of them will have an easy means off the planet, that Loki may legitimately have nowhere else to go - unnerves him.

That Loki has Thor’s ear more than anyone else unnerves him, a lot. He knows Thor is smart. He knows Thor knows Loki is untrustworthy. And yet they seem to be nigh inseparable.

Nobody else seems to have quite the problem with this as much as he does. Which is possibly fair; his is the only planet Loki has tried to take over through particularly violent means.

So Bruce decides to go to work, to try to make himself useful, tries to distract himself from what may or may not be founded fears. He studies the ship inside and out. If they do make it back to Earth, it can’t be stated nearly enough just how much this will help the planet, and human advancement.

And it keeps his mind where it needs to be. Where things make sense. Where he can apply his brain in the way he always meant to apply it, scientifically, for the betterment of humankind.

But still, he notices Thor is off. A lot of time has passed - Bruce doesn’t bother tracking it anymore, really doesn’t want to think about how much he’s lost - and while it’s clear Thor is doing better, there’s still some strain on him.

It comes to something of a head when a sudden surge of electricity shorts out a portion of the ship. Not so much that they’re in trouble, but enough to make it even smaller and more cramped as it’s repaired, people having to cram back into the main hall and nearby off-shooting areas where life support is still reliable.

Everyone knows where the surge came from. Nobody speaks of it. Bruce goes to work.

* * *

“Do we need to talk again?” Bruce asks once the repairs have been made. He was the first working on them to slip away, eager to get to Thor before anyone else had the chance.

Thor fixes his gaze on him. “Is something troubling you, Banner?”

“What,” Bruce says. “Come on, man, drop the act. You know what’s wrong. Let’s not dance around things again, that’s how this happens.” He gestures around him, at the dark hull they live in, at the sounds of it only just starting to come back to life.

For a moment, Bruce is very sure he’s said the very wrong thing; he feels the stress leave his body once Thor’s shoulders slump. “I have been better,” he insists, the pleading in his voice doing just enough to completely throw Bruce off. “I swear it.”

Bruce finds himself looking for the appropriate response. “I believe it,” he settles on, “but this shouldn’t be happening.”

“No,” Thor says. “No, I suppose not.”

* * *

They retreat to private quarters again, Thor very adamant that they do not chance any eavesdropping. By now, Bruce has gathered enough to know that Heimdall will probably know, but if Thor seems untroubled by it, then he might as well follow his lead.

“I still miss my friends greatly,” Thor says, the moment the door to his room has been closed.

“That’s natural,” Bruce says.

“But I am uncertain about Mjolnir,” Thor continues.

Bruce turns around at that, meeting Thor head on. Considering how it feels as though every memory before this latest journey has had Thor and Mjolnir together, how reliant Thor was on the hammer in battle, just how great of an aid it was, this seems… very much out of place.

“Is it the depth perception thing?” Bruce attempts, a weak bit of humour in a conversation he can quickly see turning dark much sooner than he’s ready for.

Thor ignores it, instead reaching up for his eyepatch. “If I remove this,” he says, running his fingers along it, inching towards pulling it off, “will that be too grotesque? Do I need to keep it on, for the good of everyone else?”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Bruce says, holding his hands up, trying to block Thor’s vision of himself in the mirror as he prods at the underside. “Where is this coming from?” he asks. “Yes, you should probably keep it on. Why do you want to get rid of it?”

“Loki said it suited me,” Thor says. “I believe he was being kind. After she ripped my eye out, Hela said I reminded her of our father. He, too, was without his right eye. He, too, covered it up.”

“Well, that’s what most people do,” Bruce says, not liking how Thor still seems to be toying with the idea of removing it. “Remember Nick Fury? He has one. Lots of people on Earth have only one eye and they cover that up. That's totally normal.”

Thor merely grunts in response, but mercifully drops his hand. He advances on the drinks at his table and avoids pouring himself a glass, instead choosing to take a swig from the bottle.

“Okay,” Bruce says. “Okay. Slow down. Catch me up here. What’s happened?”

Thor removes the bottle from his lips, holding it aloft with one hand as he wipes at his mouth with the other. “Tell me, Banner,” he says, voice as bitter as Bruce has ever heard it, “did you have a good relationship with your father?”

Bruce blinks.

And blinks again.

The wheels in his head slowly start turning.

And then he reaches out for the bottle, stealing it from Thor’s grasp and taking a deep swig of his own. He is completely unfamiliar with this kind of alcohol but screw helping Thor, if this is the direction they’re going in now, he’s going to need it.

“I take it no,” Thor says when Bruce has done, a look on his face that says he’s clearly impressed.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Bruce says, handing the bottle back.

Thor sets it down on the table. “Then we have something in common, here,” he says. “What was it with yours? Did he lie to you every second of his life?”

Bruce barks out a harsh laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe. If anything, he might have been too honest with me,” he says. “He’s the reason I am the way I am.”

Thor cocks his head to the side, appraising him. “That doesn’t seem so bad.”

“No?” Bruce asks. “If I get too pissed off I turn into a rage monster and try to break everything. That’s messed up. That’s not normal. Like half of it is the gamma radiation. The other half is him.”

Thor pulls back the chair before the desk and sits, kicking his legs up. He’s clearly still tense, and both of their actions are marked by a fury simmering under the surface; Bruce has never seen someone so pissed off sitting in that position. He himself is left at a loss, still standing, arms two seconds away from waving about in frustration.

“What did he do?” Thor asks.

“I tell you mine, you tell me yours?” Bruce says.

Thor gestures towards him. “By all means,” he says, tone just as terse. “It would only be fair. And talking is good, as you said.” There's an edge of sarcasm there Bruce chooses to ignore, feeling just worked up enough to keep going, feeding off of their shared anger filling the room. This wasn't at all what he was expecting, but he's too engaged to question it now.

“He called me a monster from the moment I was born,” Bruce snaps. “Every chance he had, he referred to me as that. He also beat my mom. Sometimes in front of me. Then he killed her. That was definitely in front of me. I killed him. And now I’m just a constantly angry person with that gamma-irradiated monster inside me, so I guess he was right in the end.”

Thor blinks.

“Damn,” he says. Offers Bruce the bottle back.

Bruce shakes his head, taking seat on the bed again instead, the fight draining out of him now that he's done. “So no,” he says, much more softly, “I did not have a good relationship with my father.”

Thor nods. “The more I think on it, the more I am loathe to bear resemblance to mine,” he says. “The more I am loathe to have loved him as I once did. Now I am not sure how to reconcile those feelings.”

“What happened?” Bruce asks. That Thor is speaking in a much more measured tone makes him feel as though there’s a lot more to this, a lot more that Thor is still trying to come to terms with.

“Not too long ago, he cast me out,” Thor begins. “Of course, I had a problem with it at the time. Now, I see the wisdom in it; I was cocky and headstrong and dangerous, and he found the best way he could to teach me humility. It was necessary.”

“But,” Bruce prompts.

“But,” Thor says, “he also abused Loki, ripping him from his own world and hiding his true parentage from him. He stole his identity. And he cast Hela out, before I was even born, pretending as though she did not exist. What kind of a father does that?”

“Not a good one,” Bruce says. “Trust me, I think I’m qualified to speak as to what makes a bad father, and yours isn't off to a good start.”

Thor looks up at him, a sardonic grin gracing his features. It would almost unnerve Bruce, if he wasn’t feeling the same way. That he can feel the slight crackling of electricity in the room isn’t even bothering him at this point.

“For years I idolized him,” Thor says. “Even after I learned of his mistreatment towards Loki. And I did not listen to my brother nearly as soon as I should have.” He pauses. “Perhaps that is why our relationship has been so strained.”

“Maybe also that he’s murderous and insane,” Bruce mutters.

Thor glares at him. “Careful with your words, Banner,” he says. “He is still my brother, and I am beginning to come to the realization that a fair bit of his behaviour is not entirely his fault.”

Bruce spreads his arms out. “What do you want me to say?” he asks. “I’m from Earth. The planet he tried to unleash a full-scale alien invasion on and conquer. It was thanks to him I had to make potentially unleashing the Hulk a regular occurrence in my life. I had a crap dad too, and he’s a big part of the reason I have hurt so many, but that’s on me. His decisions and his actions are on him.”

They hold the staring contest for some time before Thor bows his head, the first to relent. “A fair point,” he concedes. “Nevertheless, had I paid attention earlier, perhaps much of this could have been avoided.

“It also hurts me to begin to realize that Odin hurt all three of his children, and I was simply the last to recognize it.”

Bruce feels a pang of sympathy at that. “Hey,” he says, “there’s nothing wrong with realizing you were a victim, too. It can happen to anyone. It takes a lot of time to come to terms to. There’s no shame in it.”

“Isn’t there?” Thor asks, something of a gleam in his eye. “It would seem as though the solution to all of Father’s problems was to cover it up, and I was a part of it. I was complicit in much of what he did. The destruction is Asgard rests on my shoulders in more ways than one. I helped allow things to get this far.”

“You said it yourself earlier,” Bruce says, “Asgard is a people, not a place. You saved the people.”

“And in doing so, I still took everything from them,” Thor says.

“But their lives,” Bruce says.

A silence falls over them. The hum of electricity is still amplified, but not a threat; Bruce might even feel as though it’s healthy, everything considered. Even if Thor is still pissed, that he’s reaching a place he may not have to lash out to deal with it will only help ensure the ship truly does provide safe passage. And as important as Thor's own mental wellbeing is at this point, that's probably the most important thing they all have to worry about.

“Before I confronted my sister,” Thor says, “I found old murals.”

“I didn’t get to see much of Asgard,” Bruce says. “Not much from the orgy ship. Tell me.”

Thor stares at the floor, as if seeing something else. “There was an old one of me that Hela had broken,” he said. “Of the family I knew. And above, there was Hela, holding Mjolnir.”

Bruce sucks in a breath as the revelation hits him. For all of the talk of just who the hammer would let lift it... “But if only the worthy can hold Mjolnir, like you said…”

“I do not know,” Thor replies, voice small and helpless. “That Mjolnir wasn’t mine to begin with. That she obeyed a murderous conquerer. That she was a weapon used to cause hurt and destruction, as I had once wielded her. I miss her, but I wonder if I really should.”

“Is it the same with your dad?” Bruce asks.

Thor shrugs. “Perhaps? And perhaps with Asgard, the former place. I cannot stop thinking of Hela and what she said to me. She was not trying to trick me, as Loki so often has in the past; her words were direct, and unashamed. You mentioned that Asgard looked nice. It did so because before I was born, before Odin decided he didn’t want to be a conquerer anymore, he was just that. Asgard was meant to rule over the realms and plunder from them in order to build up its own superiority. And it was from Hela I had to learn this, because the man I grew up under, the man I would one day take over for, could not be bothered to tell me himself."

That's where Bruce starts to see the deepest cracks in Thor's armour. The shame starts to make sense. The total defeat written across Thor's very existence is nearly palpable. Sure, the rage is there, too, but it's fuelled by hopelessness and betrayal, on a scale he can't even begin to attempt to perceive.

“The very world I grew up in was nothing more than a murderous lie,” Thor finishes. He removes his legs from the table, his feet thudding softly against the floor, as he leans forward, elbows on his knees, pensive, a lost little boy. “I wonder if there was ever anything truly good about it. How many knew, and simply accepted it. I didn't know. I never questioned it. And I find that I cannot accept it, even as it was a home to plenty of innocents. So I am almost thankful it is gone, but do not know if that is an appropriate payment for all of the misery it was a monument towards.”

Bruce feels a wave of understanding come over him. “I don't know," he says. "We have places like that on Earth. I don't think Asgard is special in that regard. But it doesn't make it any more right."

"It was never right," Thor nearly growls. "It was beautiful, and it was my home. And now I can't look back on any of that and see anything good."

"You're still mourning it," Bruce says. "But you aren’t mourning its loss. You’re mourning what you thought it was.”

“I suppose so, yes,” Thor says. He looks up, as raw and desperate as Bruce has ever seen him, as if hoping there's still some way to come out of this positively, even while knowing any opportunity for that is long gone. “And you’re the only one I can tell this to. I’m not sure if Loki would accept an apology of this nature at this point, and I don’t want to test it now, not when we’re in such a precarious situation. Later. When I am calmer, and there is sturdy ground beneath our feet. And I can’t very well publicly denounce my former home - not to my people, whom I have turned into refugees.”

Bruce thinks on the huddled masses that crowd the ship. He saw very little of Asgard, but even he knows the cold, empty shell that they've taken up residence in is no match for what it once was; even the bridge he crash landed onto was much nicer, and it was just a bridge. How pallor most of the faces are, how there are still haunted eyes and battle-hardened people who know they have nothing left but the clothes on their backs, and how, despite anyone's best prayers, things will never again be the same for them.

He's been there before, lost and empty-handed and terrified of the future. Thor hasn't, he's sure, but the stress of feeling the need to keep everything inside, lest he offend any of the souls he's responsible for - Bruce can empathize with that.

“Well,” Bruce says. “That's good. Everyone is hurting, and you're right, it's not the time. For any of this. Not here." He makes an empty, generic gesture at their surroundings, the inglorious hull trying to move them to somewhere they may be able to at least think of starting over from scratch "And maybe it never will be. Some things don’t have an answer.” The time he’s lost, for one thing; the battle that will be ongoing in his mind for the rest of his days, another. “But I'm here for you, like you were for me.”

Thor nods. “Thank you, Bruce.”

* * *

They’re travelling faster than they have any right to, Bruce figures. Even then, though, space is so vast, and he doesn’t actually know the distance between Asgard and Earth, or when they may get home. He simply trusts that they’re on the right path, largely in part because Thor doesn’t seem concerned - a big step from the early days - and Heimdall seems to know everything.

It’s kind of weird, standing at Thor’s side more often than not. He’s the only non-Asgardian with such access; he doesn’t know what that really makes him. A close friend to a king: one with little bias and no perception or advice for how to rule, but a great deal of knowledge of how to keep anger in check.

The more time that passes while they're stuck aboard, the more Bruce finds himself more open to the Hulk. His most successful methods of controlling him involved keeping him close by, after all; that, and learning from Thor that he actually conversed with the Hulk - that the Hulk got upset when Thor was thinking of abandoning him - puts him more at ease. That the Hulk is capable of doing more than just smashing, that he cares a great deal more than Bruce would have ever thought possible.

Maybe the two years were a necessary sacrifice, as everything Thor lost may have been, as well.

“When we are somewhere safe,” Thor says, “we should have a rematch, where you cannot cheat.”

“Hey, if what everyone’s told me is accurate, I wasn’t the one cheating,” Bruce says. “Not my call to shock you.”

“You still benefited from it,” Thor says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I deserve a rematch.”

“People could die,” Bruce points out.

“Which is why I said somewhere safe. We can find an isolated location,” Thor says. “Rogers can referee. Stop making excuses.”

“So now Steve’s involved?”

“We all know that he is not the strongest Avenger. Though he is probably the third most. And that he is more than fair. And sport is a worthy distraction from life’s troubles, and I suspect as we settle, we will need it.”

“Sure,” Bruce says, wondering for a moment if by Thor's words, the "we", he expects Bruce to stay with him when they're back on Earth. He's probably open to it; where else would he go? Is the old team, is New York even still an option? Would he want to abandon a friendly face again, someone who helped him back from the abyss, someone he's growing even closer to by the day? He puts that aside to look up at Thor, happily playing along instead. “Though you may not like the end result.”

Thor laughs, clapping Bruce on the back. “We shall see.”


End file.
